


Lips Tell Lies for the Heart

by EvilPeaches



Series: Playing for keeps and losing [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Language, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Slice of Life, Theon Makes Poor Choices, Unhealthy Relationships, as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilPeaches/pseuds/EvilPeaches
Summary: Robb loves his boyfriend, but Theon has always had one foot in and one out.In the end, literally no one is happy.___________Those pale eyes laugh at him and Robb hates being mocked. Bolton smiles slightly, a hint of canine showing. His expression hinting that he knows a secret that Robb doesn’t. Robb loathes that look with a passion. The shark-like grin is perfect and white as Bolton says sweetly, “You really are very trusting, aren’t you?”“I trust Theon implicitly.”The predatory smile doesn’t waver. It gets wider and Robb feels sick wondering why.





	Lips Tell Lies for the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Game of Thrones or the characters. All belong to George R. R. Martin.
> 
>  **AN:** Well. This is something new for me. Hope you enjoy T_T

They lie in bed, face to face, lips touching gently. The morning sun peeks through the windows, lighting the room with warmth.

Robb can count every single color in Theon’s eyes and feels like he could simply drown in them, the adoration there so blatant.

Hands, always so gentle, run up and down his skin. Robb shivers, sighs. Theon always touches him like he isn’t quite sure that Robb is real, like he’s a dream that Theon is afraid he will wake from. Robb entangles their legs, presses their skin together, runs his tongue down Theon’s neck.

He can taste the salt there; it’s the taste of skin and it reminds him of the sea that Theon loves so.

From above, Robb can watch the way Theon bites his lip, arches into his touch eagerly. The vulnerable way he tilts his head against the pillows, his dark hair a halo.

Robb presses inside slowly, holds him close. Feels the familiar warmth of Theon’s body, the tightness of him that makes stars flutter across his vision.

“I love you,” Theon whispers into his neck, the morning sunlight reflecting off his sea-green eyes.

Robb loves him more than he can stand.

*******

It’s not always that way.

*******

There is one thing that Robb has always known about Theon Greyjoy.

Sometimes, Theon has good weeks and sometimes he has bad ones. Theon’s family life has never been pleasant, in fact Robb would call it down right abusive compared to his own experience. When Theon had lived at home, his father had taken all his misery out on him. The alcohol most likely hadn’t helped. The death of Theon’s brothers had only escalated the situation.

Theon was never without bruises as a teenager. It broke Robb’s heart whenever Theon made up lies to cover for his father even though everyone knew what the truth was. Theon had wanted acceptance so terribly that he had suffered through his father’s hate in hopes that one day his father would accept him.

That day never came. Robb never could quite fill that gaping hole in Theon’s chest, the one Balon Greyjoy had left.

As an adult, Theon’s lapses of misery took aggressive forms that Robb couldn’t curb as easily as he could Theon’s teenage theatrics. When Theon Greyjoy is down, he goes down into an abyss of misery and self-loathing so deep that no one can pull him out of it. He drinks too hard, decorates his wrists with scars, loses interest in just about everything, and indulges in far too much Xanax. He has a snappy attitude naturally, but in this state, he becomes downright ugly.

Robb has been with Theon long enough to know that, miraculously, he will come out of it, like a jet bursting out of a storm.

It’s just a matter of picking up the pieces on the other side.

One would think Theon enjoys being in pieces, the way he acts.  
  
*******

They’ve been together for five years romantically. Best friends for nearly fifteen years before that.

When Theon turned twenty-nine, they moved in together, figured they would stay this way forever. They tried dating other people on and off when they were younger, a string of girls always following after Theon with broken hearts.

Robb really could have just about anyone, but he’s always been rather picky. Sometimes, he wonders why he chose Theon when he could have chosen someone…a little less…difficult.

Perhaps Theon wonders too. Or worries. Doubts. 

*******

They are at a charity gala in July, held annually in the North. Theon is already three sheets to the wind, which is typical. Robb has never been able to curb his unruliness, half finding it charming and half finding it embarrassing.

His lips touch Theon’s ear as he asks him the thing he’s been dying to ask all night long. “Is there a reason why Bolton has been staring at you from across the room all night?”

Because he has been. It’s weird. Robb’s noticed, can’t help but see the way Bolton’s head turns a bit wherever Theon goes. Sees the way he smokes his cigarette, laughing, more like sneering, at the conversation he’s engaged in with his friends. Bolton pretends he’s not looking at Theon Greyjoy, but Robb isn’t an idiot, he’s not blind.

Theon’s head rolls languidly, heavily with alcohol. He smiles that wide, drunken smile that Robb finds endearing. “Oh, Ramsay? We’ve been hanging out. You know your dad has me working with the Bolton’s on our recent project at work. We met. He gets me.”

 _Do I not ‘get’ you?_ Robb wonders with a slice of not ‘quite’ jealousy. But it _was_ a strange response.

Robb tries to ignore the way that Bolton looks at Theon. Tries to ignore the way that Theon plays it cool, seems distant. The thing that Theon does when he’s playing hard to get, because Theon really isn’t hard to get at all.

In fact, he’s rather easy. He’s always been an easy lay, well before Robb ever got to him.

Robb tells himself it’s nothing. Tells him he’s being far too suspicious of the man he loves, the man he trusts. And yet…no. No.

Perhaps Theon can’t feel the way Bolton’s icy eyes stroke up and down his skin, like he owns it. The way he looks like he would like to crawl into Theon’s skin. Like he wants to eat his heart and chew his bones.

Robb shakes the thoughts away. He trusts Theon. He _does._

It’s not Theon’s fault that he’s caught the wrong sort of attention; Theon’s always been prone to that.

 _But nothing like this,_ Robb thinks.

* * *

 

Theon has always had friends; Robb has his own as well. It’s never been an issue.

But, coming home to Ramsay ‘switchblade’ Bolton playing _Mortal Kombat_ with your boyfriend is kind of a big thing. An _issue_. Robb is stunned when he walks in the door after being out with Jon all afternoon, seeing a dark Lexus parked out front. The shock of black hair and the pale grey eyes stands out far too much on Robb’s couch as Bolton wiggles the controller in his hands, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Theon is standing up beside the couch, smashing buttons with a dismayed look as he stares at the television screen, mouth slightly open.

A look of victory shapes Bolton’s face as he growls out in time with the game, “ _Fatality_!”

Theon groans with exaggerated disappointment.

Robb coughs into his hand, announcing his presence. Both Bolton and Theon flinch, looking at him with wide eyes. Robb doesn’t like the way that makes him feel, like he’s interrupted something. The feeling is stupid though; this is his house.

“Hey, Robb. Didn’t realize you were home,” Theon says with a grin. “How was Jon?”

The air is thick with tension, but Theon seems oblivious. Luckily, Bolton doesn’t say anything; he and Robb have hated each other for as long as…anyone can remember.

“He’s good. He wants us to go out with him and Ygritte sometime soon,” Robb replies, ignoring the bastard on his couch in favor of looking at Theon.

Theon puts the controller down and comes over to kiss Robb on the mouth, “I’m down for it. Ygritte knows how to drink; Jon, not so much.”

As Theon talks on, Robb can’t miss the way Bolton’s eyes get colder, harder. His square jawline has a subtle twitch to it, giving Robb the impression that he’s grinding his teeth. 

*******

“Is this a new thing?” Robb asks Theon later in bed.

“Is what a new thing?”

“You know what. I didn’t realize you guys were hanging out here now,” Robb says tightly.

Theon rolls over and props himself up on his elbow, squinting down at Robb. “Do you have a problem with me being friends with him?”

_Is the sky blue?_

“Damn right I do! He’s crazy and fucking dangerous.”

“You don’t know him.” Theon retorts weakly.

Robb buries his hand in Theon's hair, presses his lips to his ear. “I don’t want to know him.”

Theon rolls his eyes and drops under the covers. He wraps his lips around Robb’s cock and all negative thoughts disappear. 

*******

It’s hard to ignore the way things slowly change.

“I had to work late,” Theon says as he walks in the door. “I brought you some Chinese though, your favorite!”

The food tastes like ash in Robb’s mouth. Theon has never been the type to work late.

He’s getting the distinct impression that Bolton is poaching on his territory and Robb doesn’t fucking like it.

And he’s well aware that Bolton is like a rabid dog with a bone; he doesn’t let go.

*******

The Tyrell siblings always have a yearly bash for everyone to come and enjoy some debauchery. Margaery and Loras look quite the power sibling pair, dressed to the nines as they greet their guests in their gigantic gardens. They inherited a mansion estate from their grandmother and have put it to good use ever since.

Theon and Robb go with Jon and Ygritte, spending most of their time drinking champagne by the extravagant pool. The roaring fire pits provide warmth and cheer. Theon and Ygritte get along famously, ribbing each other mercilessly. “You know how to take it, don’t ya?” Ygritte says, elbowing Theon with a devious wink. “Jon over here just pouts when I make a joke at him. You’re feisty.”

Theon steals her flute of champagne from her hand and down it in one gulp. Ygritte slaps his chest and he chokes on the bubbles as they go down the wrong pipe. “Will you two cut it out?” Jon grumbles.

Catching his breath again, Theon laughs and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Most likely to puke up copious amounts of alcohol so he can put down more.

Robb mingles, talking with a few girls he knew from college. They blatantly flirt with him and for some reason, an ugly edge inside of him lets him flirt back. He’s angry, he realizes. Something has been building for some time under the surface, he just doesn’t understand what.

Or rather, he does, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

He catches sight of Theon later, standing in the shadows under a tree beside the large hedge maze. He’s talking animatedly to someone who is obscured from Robb’s view, just behind the tree. A puff of smoke drifts into the air from behind the tree and Theon leans forward.

Robb almost isn’t surprised when Ramsay fucking Bolton comes into view as he steps forward a bit from behind the tree, tilting his ear towards Theon as Theon leans closer. Theon whispers something in Bolton’s ear and as he does, Bolton shivers visibly, piercing eyes fluttering shut, mouth dropping open slightly.

Distantly, feeling ill, Robb wonders if Theon’s lips touched his ear. Or his neck. It’s painfully clear to Robb how Bolton feels about Theon.

Disgusted with everything, Robb turns and walks away before he storms over there and pummels them both for making him feel this way.

He’s sitting by himself at the pool when Bolton finds him. He’s a strange mix of slight and husky, trim cut shoulders and a bit of muscle under his skin. Robb has always wondered if he could take him in a fistfight, but he isn’t eager to find out. Bolton’s cologne, mixed with the scent of smoke, is something Robb has become far too familiar with as of late. “You look like you’re having _such_ a good time, Stark. Must be a Stark thing, to look so _serious_ all the time. How boring of you.”

“You’ve been monopolizing my date,” Robb says coldly and he wants to strangle him.

Realization flickers in Bolton’s eyes and his lips quirk, his expressive eyebrows lifting. He shifts his weight, lighting another cigarette. The flame from the lighter reflects in his eyes.

“Don’t you want to know what he said?” Bolton asks casually from under lowered lashes, dark like a raven’s wing.

Despite the tone of voice, there is something ugly in those eyes.

So, he knew Robb had seen them. Snake. Robb does want to know, but he’s not going to give Bolton the satisfaction of saying so. “I’m sure it was fascinating. But no. I find I rather don’t care for your conversations.”

Those pale eyes laugh at him and Robb hates being mocked. Bolton smiles slightly, a hint of canine showing. His expression hinting that he knows a secret that Robb doesn’t. Robb loathes that look with a passion. The shark-like grin is perfect and white as Bolton says sweetly, “You really are very trusting, aren’t you?”

“I trust Theon implicitly.” _He’s not so sure he does anymore, actually._

The predatory smile doesn’t waver. It gets wider and Robb feels sick wondering why.

*******

He figures that Bolton is just another blade that Theon uses to hurt himself with, because what else could this possibly be? 

*******

Weeks later everything comes to a head and turns Robb’s world upside down.

Something is off and Robb just can’t place it. Nothing about Theon seems out of place, but there is an air hovering about him that seems…distant. As he hugs him, kisses him, a sudden scent jolts Robb’s mind.

“That’s not your cologne,” he says finally, pulling back to stare at Theon blankly.

It feels like fire is burning under Robb’s skin and suddenly he feels too hot, like he can’t breathe. He inhales shallowly, tastes acid on the back of his tongue.

A strange look shapes Theon’s face. He scoffs, sea-green eyes suddenly evasive. “What are you on about? I’m not wearing any.”

Robb sits back, wants to scream, wants to tear those ocean eyes out. “You are though. It’s all over you and I know it’s not yours.” His mind searches for the answer, for why that scent is sending off warning bells in his head.

_Black hair and pale grey eyes that always laugh at the wrong things, eyes that linger on Theon far too long. A hand on Theon’s shoulder, a whisper in his ear. Smoke and sin, fitting for a viper sitting in plain sight._

Theon smiles nervously and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I was at the gym.”

His mouth moves, but Robb almost doesn’t hear him, a rushing sound in his ears nearly drowning out everything else. Something cracks and it might be his heart, he’s not quite sure.

“At the gym?” Robb snaps, seeing red. Theon doesn’t even go to the gym; he thinks it’s tedious. “That’s a strange place to be fucking him, isn’t it?”

It’s fascinating to watch all the blood drain from Theon’s face at his words. Robb’s stomach drops and turns over. His heart twists and clenches painfully, going up in flames until there is nothing but ashes left.

“Wow,” Robb says thickly. “You can’t even deny it. You _are_ fucking _him_.”

He’s seen this coming and he feels like a fool. Theon’s mouth is moving, but he can’t seem to find any words so Robb continues venting his fury. “He must be pretty good in bed for you to throw us away like this. I really fucking hope he’s worth it.”

Finally, Theon finds his voice. He looks stricken, lost. “Robb, I-”

“Don’t even lie. Just. Just get out. I’ll even call him to pick your deceitful ass up, I’m sure he’d be thrilled,” snarls Robb.

“Let me explain, I…it was…I didn’t-” Theon sounds broken and Robb can’t even find the patience to listen.

He brings his phone up to his ear.

“Robb, don’t!” Theon says, trying to grab Robb’s hand. “Let me fix this!”

There is no fixing this, the damage is done. Robb glares into the eyes that he’s loved for so long and then dials Bolton’s work cell.

“Stark?” Bolton’s tone is flat, like that dead-eyed stare he can sometimes give.

Staring at the tears the streak down Theon’s face, Robb says lowly, “I have something of yours. Get it out of my house.”

There is silence for a moment and Theon groans miserably, sinking down to a crouch, head in his hands. He says something that is muffled behind his hands. It sounds like, _I love you, I’m sorry, it was a mistake,_ but Robb is numb to it.

He loves Theon enough to let him go. If it’s misery Theon wants, he can have it.

Robb doesn’t want Ramsay Bolton’s leftovers.

* * *

 

Three days later, Robb gets a card in the mail. When he opens it, he nearly screams when he sees it’s a sympathy card from Bolton. The card reads, ‘Sorry for your loss’.

“Fucking asshole!” Robb tears it into shreds and sets it on fire in the sink.

*******

Life without Theon is different. His smile is absent and his scent slowly fades from Robb’s bedsheets. He tried to not wash them for a long as possible, wanting to hang on to something that wasn’t there.

His shampoo is still in the shower and sometimes Robb smells it when he’s feeling especially down. Everything hurts and he hates and hates just as much as he feels sorrowful and full of loss.

Theon betrayed him in the worst way possible and he doesn’t deserve any space in Robb’s thoughts any longer.

He’s not Robb’s problem anymore.

*******

Months drag by and eventually the sting fades, but the resentment doesn’t die. It eats at Robb, a knife that twists and turns when he least expects it.

Talisa brushes hair from his eyes as she looks at him with that warm brown gaze, calm and kind. “You should get coffee with me sometime. I’m always here to talk if you need it.”

Her hand is warm and Robb catches it in his. She isn’t Theon and she doesn’t need to be.

He doesn’t want her to be.

*******

He’s downtown for work when he sees Bolton. Robb is standing on the corner of Strict and Fuller when a painfully familiar car stops at the light.

The dark Lexus has a loud, thundering bass that no one can miss. The passenger seat is empty and Robb is grateful. Seeing Theon beside him would feel like a knife between the ribs. Or in his back, more like.

Upon seeing Robb’s furious gaze, Bolton rolls his window down and hangs out of it a bit, elbow at a sharp angle as he holds two fingers in front of his mouth in a V shape. With a wide sneer, he wiggles his tongue between them crudely and Robb is too irritated to be insulted.

“Lowborn pig,” Robb mutters with revulsion as Bolton speeds off when the light turns.

*******

At night he tries to not think of the way Theon was always willing to back him up, be there for Robb when he needed him most.

 _Where is he now_ , Robb wonders darkly.

The next day he takes Talisa out and her smile and tinkling laugh clear his mind of everything. 

* * *

 

At yet another event between Ned Stark and Roose Bolton, Robb comes across his least favorite person in the whole world.

Ramsay Bolton looks dashing in all black, shirt and suit, a dark crimson tie at his throat. Robb wants to strangle him with it immediately.

“So, I’ve been wondering…” Bolton starts, that teasing tone of his grating on Robb’s nerves.

“No one gives a fuck what you’ve been wondering, Bastard,” Robb growls lowly, blue eyes spitting flames.

Bolton’s eyes narrow. “I just wanted to know if I should be thanking you for Theon’s skilled mouth. Or was he that good by the time you got him?”

Robb’s hands clench into fists. He can’t start a fight here, not with Roose Bolton’s son. He tries to be rational, tries to imagine what would piss the possessive son of a bitch off the most. “Couldn’t say for sure. He’s been with so many people. I’ve lost track.”

It’s a lie, but it gets the result that Robb wants.

Bolton’s pupils constrict with fury, his face turning red. “I prefer being last anyway,” the bastard snarls jealously, turning on his heel.

That night, Robb has a nightmare that makes him so ill he needs to leave the bed to be sick. His throat burns as he dry heaves into the toilet bowl, gasping.

His imagination ran away with him once again, tormenting him with the image of Bolton sticking his tongue down Theon’s throat, hand around his cock as Theon arches up into him from below. Bolton would use his teeth and hands to mark Theon as his property, a physical representation so no one could ever forget.

Robb wishes he could forget they both existed. 

* * *

 

“Have you seen Theon lately?”

Robb shrugs, sips his Bloody Mary and stares out across the lawn. His parents have always lived on a lot of land and the green stretches for miles. It’s peaceful, quiet. “No, Sansa. Can’t say that I have. He’s been wrapped around Bolton’s dick for a few months now.”

“No need to be crude.” Sansa purses her lips. “I’ve seen him.”

He’s sure she has. They used to have a few of the same friends and they always seemed to shop at the same places. “How nice for you. Probably at one of those clubs you guys always seem to find so fun, huh?”

“No, Robb. I’ve seen him at my work,” she says precisely, with a hidden meaning under her words.

It isn’t too hard to understand what she isn’t saying aloud.

That would be because Sansa’s a nurse at the local hospital.

She often works in the ER.

* * *

   
It’s been a year when he finally decides he’s ready to fully move on. He asks Talisa to be his girlfriend and when she kisses his cheek, she says, “I thought you’d never ask. What took you so long?”

Sea-green eyes and a crooked smile don’t pop up in his mind. They _don’t_.

* * *

It’s November when, once again, Theon smashes Robb’s world open. He almost does a double take when he sees the familiar number pop up on his phone most unexpectedly. Robb struggles with himself internally, doesn’t want to answer out of spite.

 _Screw him, what the fuck could he possibly want?_ Robb thinks nastily, but wonders and wonders. He wants some closure, because he’s never gotten it. He has nightmares sometimes, wondering if Ramsay has filled the empty spaces in Theon that Robb never could.

Sighing, Robb answers the phone.

“Robb,” the whisper is raw, broken.

Despite all the anger and rage that has been festering in Robb’s heart for months, something tears just a little in his chest. Gives. _I wondered when the self-hating game would get tiring for him. This time it just took longer for Theon to surface._ “That’s my name. Do you need something? I still have a closet full of your shit, you know.”

“You were…you were right. About him.” Theon’s voice is like broken glass, cracking and creaking sharply. “I just wanted to let you know. And I’m sorry.”

For a moment Robb doesn’t know how to respond. Of course, Robb was right; Ramsay Bolton is a damn psycho. “How did you think this was going to end Theon? Did you think you could take crazy out for a spin and put it away when it suited you? That’s not how it works. Not in any story.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.”

Red flashes across Robb’s vision for a moment. All he can see in his mind’s eye is horrid visions of Theon with Ramsay and it makes his stomach turn over. “Damn straight you don’t deserve anything!”

“…I know.”

“You chose him. Over _me_. I gave you everything. I loved you.”

There’s a gasping sound and Robb can imagine Theon stifling a heartbroken sound with his hand. There is no possible way for Theon to talk his way out of this. Nothing to clear this mess that lies between them, because Robb just…can’t. Can’t look at him the same.

Theon has always been a good talker, too much of a good talker. Robb always thought he was too smooth for his own good and his attitude-laden tongue always got him in trouble. “I’m sorry, Robb,” Theon whispers again.

He can say it all he wants; Robb isn’t forgiving him anytime soon. But. _But_. Theon called for a reason, Robb is sure.

“Because of the long history we share and because you were like family to me, I’ll let you come stay here. For a bit. If you need to get away from…him. Just until you get on your feet again. But I’m _not taking you back_. I’m with Talisa now.”

“…Oh. That’s…that’s great…” Theon sounds like a lost little boy.

“Thanks.”

Robb isn’t a heartless asshole. It isn’t like he hasn’t heard about the things that Theon and Bolton get up to. The trouble, the bar fights, the screaming matches on their front lawn. He’s heard the stories. The stories aren’t blown out of proportion either.

They were a hot mess and it would have been funny if it weren’t so awful.

Jon had told Robb about the car drama story, because he lived somewhat close to the mercurial pair.

_“It was nuts,” Jon had said. “Ygritte and I are literally sitting on our front porch when Theon comes out of their house to go to his car and finds all of his tires slashed. By you know who, of course. We’re watching to see what he’s going to do, because obviously he knows who did the dirty deed too. He goes in the garage and comes out with a hammer, a fucking hammer, Robb. I’m like, ‘what the fuck does he think he’s going to do with that?’ He goes to Bolton’s Lexus and pounds the hell out of the side, the hood, you name it._

_Bolton hears the racket and comes out; you couldn’t miss it. Long story short, they freaking brawl on the front lawn, at nine in the morning, screaming their heads off. It was almost as good as an MMA match and we didn’t even have to pay!”_

_“How did it end?” Robb had asked numbly._

_“When Bolton put Theon through the windshield of his Lexus.” Jon had said flatly, finishing the story._

Theon’s voice brings Robb back to the present. “Robb. I don’t…I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t say anything, Theon. Just get…out of that house. Take what you can. Just get out,” Robb says tiredly.

He may want to squish Theon into nothing for his betrayal, but for the sake of their entire childhood together and everything good that had been between them, he cannot let him stay with Ramsay Bolton one second more.

That would feel too much like putting a nail in Theon’s coffin himself. Plus, there is a sense of justice in stealing Theon back from the man who stole him from Robb.

*******

When Theon arrives at Robb’s place (the place they used to share), he looks like death warmed over and Robb tells himself that he was right to give him shelter. Theon has a split lip and a black eye, his posture dejected. Two of his fingers are in splints. Bruises lines his wrists and teeth marks are on his throat. His eyes are haunted. The man in front of him is a ghost of what he once was.

It breaks Robb’s heart. Theon never could keep himself out of trouble, always believing he was undeserving of happiness and belonging. He couldn’t save Theon from himself.

“The place looks good,” Theon says awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “You look great. Nice?”

“Oh, shut up.” Robb says, though there isn’t much fire behind the words. It’s hard to hate Theon now, seeing him this way, but somehow it feels like justice for the hell he put Robb through. “Just…you can use the second bedroom.”

Theon nods, staring at the carpeting forlornly. He knows how Robb is. Robb might be a White Knight, but he doesn’t take betrayal well and Robb is partial to cold justice and hot revenge.

They stand there for a few minutes more, just staring at each other. Robb can see the relief in Theon’s eyes as he drinks Robb in. He’s happy to be back, happy to see Robb looks well. But he knows, oh he knows Robb isn’t taking him back.

He screwed everything up and Robb won’t forgive him for that, but he’s not going to let Theon get his ass killed either.

When Theon looks up again, he pins Robb with a raw look, his eyes screaming desperate things. “Can. Can I just have a hug? Just. One?”

Robb closes his eyes, tells himself no, but finds himself opening his arms to Theon anyway. With a choked sob, Theon steps into his embrace, his thin arms wrapping around Robb tightly, as if he is afraid Robb will disappear in a puff of smoke.

“I hate you,” Robb says against Theon’s neck, still able to smell the scent of smoke and another man’s cologne on him.

Theon only presses against him tighter. “I know,” he replies. “But I still love you.”

Robb wishes he wouldn’t say things like that.

Slowly, they step away from each other and the distance between them feels like miles and miles of scorching desert. Robb rubs his eyes with frustration.

Theon turns his gaze to the shut front door, his eyes suddenly far away. “As long as I’m here…you might want to…uh…get some more deadbolts for that door. Just a thought.”

Sitting down on the couch with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Robb curses into his hands. _Of all the people he could have run off with, it just had to be the one that would prefer to dig Theon’s grave rather than give him up._ “I’ll call Gendry. He can put some gear on it.”

For some reason, Theon’s expression is still frozen with a deer in headlights sort of look. “Can Gendry come now?”

Brow furrowed, Robb asks, “Why?”

Theon’s face is pale as he holds up his vibrating phone. The incoming call fills the whole screen of the phone with the image of a grinning young man. His eyes are like an arctic storm and his lips have a distinctly cruel twist.

Robb stares at the painfully familiar image and his lips tighten into a frown. He glances at Theon sourly. “I really should just let him have you. For what you did to me.”

“…but you won’t,” Theon stutters out, suddenly looking desperate.

Robb doesn’t answer. He won’t, but he _should_.

The darkest part of Robb’s heart whispers that it’s what Theon deserves. He made his bed; he should sleep in it with the monster of his choice.

The sudden banging on the door is deafening.

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never written anything remotely Robb/Theon and it appears that when I do, it's sad as hell. Go figure!
> 
> If you enjoyed reading, kudos are much appreciated and comments are absolutely adored! I love hearing your thoughts! Thanks for reading.


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